


Ungolden

by needleyecandy



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dare, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleyecandy/pseuds/needleyecandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple challenge - three days of silence - proves to be less than simple, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ungolden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izazov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/gifts).



> A Secret Santa gift for izazov, based on this prompt:  
>  _Fic: when they made a drunken wager, Thor never expected Loki to be able to keep silent for three days straight. He also gravely underestimated his own competitive nature._
> 
> It got away from me a bit. I started out writing straight to the prompt, and then Loki seemed flat so I gave him some angst, and then _Thor_ seemed flat, so he got some angst and it turned into a giant angstfest. I hope you like it, all the same. Merry Christmas!

Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torment of man.  
                                                                                                 -Friedrich Nietzsche

 

  
  
The feast had been dragging on for hours, and Thor had long ago lost count of how many barrels of mead had been emptied. What had begun as a matter of state, with Thor and Loki sitting at the head table flanking their parents, had slowly shifted into a raucous celebration. When Thor grabbed Loki's hand to drag him away to a lower table, well into the evening, they barely drew a glance.

"Where are you taking me, Thor?" Loki asked, his voice pointedly bored.

"Did you not see where our friends are sitting? They're back there. Come on," Thor said, tugging him through a brief open space in the shifting crowd.

 _Your friends,_  thought Loki. _Always yours_. Thor had no awareness of the dislike shared by Loki and his friends. That was perfectly reasonable, of course. He wasn’t even aware that his own brother was no longer his friend. Loki would have done anything, given anything, to have that back. But love is not a thing of metal to be reforged when it is broken.

Loki mumbled something under his breath. It sounded scathing. "What?" Thor asked, glancing back. But Loki just met his eyes with a bland smile. At state functions, there was little enjoyment to be found beyond antagonizing his brother. He may as well have what fun he could, and Thor never failed to be irritated by things like this. For someone so brash and impetuous, he could at least be relied upon for a few things. Still, best to keep a neutral face with this lot. They weren't worth the bother of anything more. Especially not now, when he was so close.

They sat at the end of the table, Loki sliding in next to Hogun, Thor across from him next to Sif.

"Pass that down, would you?" Thor asked with a nod towards the flagon. Sif handed it to him and he absentmindedly refilled his own cup before reaching across the table to fill Loki's. _Of course he did_ , thought Loki.

"To the treaty!" Volstagg toasted, raising his cup high.

"The treaty!" agreed the rest, holding their cups up to clink.

"What's the matter, Loki? You seem uninterested. Surely you know how valuable this treaty is for Asgard, and it came as such a surprise. We have much to celebrate," Fandral said, staring down the table.

He shrugged. "I predicted it a month ago." He'd maneuvered it a month ago, actually. And had already made arrangements with his father to be the ambassador to the newly befriended realm. He hadn’t yet decided whether he would tell Thor, or simply disappear. Which would be more painful to do. Which would be more painful for Thor to receive, if he even cared enough to be pained at all. For Loki _ached_ to hurt his brother.

"Oh, come now! That seems most unlikely," Thor said. His grin was wide with disbelief.

"Yes, that's what you said at the time, as well," Loki answered coolly.

"Funny how no one remembers hearing you," said Sif.

Loki's voice was dismissive. "It'd be more notable if someone did."

"And what does that mean?" she asked, her tongue growing acidic.

"Merely that some members of the present company may have a slight tendency to overindulgence," he said. "No offense, of _course_."

"Or perhaps because you like to say certain things too low for anyone to hear," Thor said. His irritation had been roused by Loki's sotto voce comment in the middle of the hall, and the current conversation was only causing it to grow.

"As opposed to you, thunderer," Loki sniffed.

"I am not overloud. I merely pitch my voice to suit the room. Unlike some."

Loki snorted. "Are you even aware of how much sound you make? Like when you throw your hammer. You sound like you're trying to hurl vomit, not a weapon."

Thor smiled. Loki's words were more easily dismissed when his attacks were so blatant. "It helps me focus my strength, and my attention. I have often wondered how much more deadly your blades might be, were you less silent."

"I've never felt the need to choose between the two," Loki answered.

"You know what else is silent but deadly?" asked Fandral. "What comes out of Volstagg when we're on campaign and have been fed upon too many beans."

Loki's eyes narrowed as the rest of the table - even Volstagg - burst into laughter.

"Oh, come, brother," Thor teased. "Just be proud that you're able to be silent at all."

"And that means...?"

"Isn't it obvious? You always have to have the last word," Sif interjected. "You can't stand to let someone else end things."

Loki shrugged. "If that's what you want to believe." _Him_. As though that weren't one of Thor's own failings. Not that Sif would notice. Not that anyone would notice; the entire realm, other than Loki, was pathetically, laughably blind to Thor's many faults. If only he could be half so blind to Thor's gifts.  
  
"See? There, you're still doing it," said Thor.

 _See_? thought Loki. _You're_  still doing it. "As though the perfect Thor can go even an hour without the sound of his own golden voice."

"All right, then. A dare," Thor challenged. "Three days of silence. Neither one of us utters a sound."

Loki smirked. "You really think you can outlast me?"

"I know I can."

"Very well, then," Loki answered. His green eyes sparkled with the first real interest they'd shown all night. "We must set the rules."

"I've already said. Neither of us utters a sound for three days."

"Yes, yes," Loki replied, his voice testy. "But there's got to be something beyond that. When exactly does it start? Can we provoke each other?"

Thor grinned. "You might try to provoke me, perhaps. You will fail."

Loki snorted. "All right, then. But I think we can agree that we won't do anything that will send the other to the healers, at least?"

"Agreed. Nothing involving healers. Anything else you want to add? More ways to wiggle out of the challenge?"

And _that_ was Thor in a nutshell, always seeing rules as technicalities, pointless minutia designed for the use of those who couldn't achieve their aims in any other fashion. Not that Loki was above taking advantage of a technicality, when it suited him. No, he would twist a rule ten ways to Sunday if it were to his advantage. But he also understood that a well-designed rule was harder to twist. It was why he liked to be the one who made them, for good or ill.

"Oh, no, brother. I believe that will do nicely."

"Then shall we say it begins..." Thor's eyes drifted to the clock, "in five minutes? It is about to chime the mark between midnight and dawn. From that chime, to the same chime in three days, neither of us utters a sound."

"And cannot send the other to the healers," Loki added.

"Agreed."

Loki smiled. "Agreed."

"It's settled."

"It is."

"Done."

"Yes."

"See?"

"See what?" Loki asked innocently.

"You're still-" Thor was cut off by the chime. He glared at Loki, who smiled cheerfully and tilted his head in question.

Thor's face darkened and he poked his finger into his brother's chest. His eyes only darkened further when Loki's head fell back in silent laughter.

When Loki went to bed that night, he lay awake imagining how it must feel to not be constantly torn apart by love and hate. He could vaguely remember, when he was half-asleep. The worst of it was that his hate had grown from his love, so he could not even indulge in malice without his own worm cruelly turning. At least this bet could prove useful, if he played it right, in these days before his departure. Perhaps, with enough pain, he might grow numb.

  
Day 1

Thor woke late, with a pounding head and sticky eyes, barely managing to catch himself before he groaned. He was glad that he had left the feast after the wager was struck; at the time he was merely avoiding the temptation of friends and laughter, but now he was glad to be without a worse head. There was no way he could face breakfast with his family, even if Loki had already gotten there to convey the nature of their bet. The very thought of silver against china sent a new wave of pain shooting behind his eyes.

He drank three glasses of water, grateful for the large ewer left in his room overnight, and went back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was early afternoon, but he felt bright and fresh and ready to  _win_. And hungry. By now he'd missed lunch, as well, and he cast his eyes about his room as he dressed, searching in vain for a bowl of nuts, perhaps, or chocolates sent by an admirer. He certainly got enough of those, but none, it seemed, when he needed them. He finally contented himself with the one apple he could reach from his window, the sill digging uncomfortably into his side as he leaned out. It was sour. It was also the best he was going to get at this hour without having to speak to a servant.

Loki was in his room when Thor arrived carrying two staves to make clear his intention. Loki inclined his head and took one, and they walked together to the sparring ring. He might throw his knives in silence, Thor thought, but a good crack across the knuckles - not enough to break them, of course - could make anyone give a cry of surprise. And the staff had never been Loki's weapon.

Thor had not been lying, when he said that his war cry helped him focus his attention and strength as he fought. It came as something of a shock, though, to realize just how true it was. Much of the ability he had long ago honed into instinct had to be done with intent, now. And having to think about fighting meant thinking about Loki. How he shifted his weight as he spun, how he stepped into his attacks, how he braced himself in defense, how fluidly he moved when Thor charged and Loki suddenly wasn’t there. Thor slowly fell into the grace of it all. A crowd slowly gathered, watching the elegance of their fight. They twirled and spun, coming together and breaking apart, the only sounds the sharp crack of wood on wood and soft footfalls.

Though the staff was not Loki’s favorite weapon, Thor was far from his best that day, and they proved well-matched. Loki, less muscular, might have tired more quickly but for the extra weight Thor had to carry. He watched as Thor’s chest began to heave at the same moment his own did, the way their faces took on a flush of exertion almost simultaneously. Were it not for Thor’s blatant attempts at striking his knuckles, it could almost have felt like seduction. But that was more than he ever allowed himself to think.

The fight ended only when the weapons master stepped between them with raised hands. Thor had his mouth open to complain before he stopped himself, remaining mute. It was most disappointing; if Thor had lost in less than a day, it would have provided excellent fodder for mockery.

Thor hated to see their match end. Loki had given him a magnificent bout, fighting at his very best for hours straight. And without his brother’s mocking tongue, attacking him at every opportunity with oily words and sharp phrases, it had slowly dawned on him how much he _missed_ Loki, for all their daily physical closeness. He wanted what they had once had, the nearness of their childhood and with it an easy friendship that had faded away somehow unnoticed, like a silk left too long in the sun. When this wager was over – after Thor had won, which he intended to do quickly – he would make more of an effort to be close to Loki once again.

Loki watched as the strangest look crept across Thor’s face. If it weren’t impossible, he would almost think that his perfect brother had been struck by a pang of regret. He turned away quickly as Thor turned towards him.

Thor’s shoulders fell as Loki spun away, spurning the hand he was in the midst of offering. He didn’t follow his brother, and so he didn’t see Loki go to the stables and saddle his horse. He didn’t see them gallop through the forest, Loki’s fury leaving a trail of destruction behind them. Perhaps it would have been better if he had.

Perhaps it would have changed nothing.

*****

Loki was already at the family table when Thor arrived to dinner.

"Thor. Hello, darling." Frigga smiled as he bent down to kiss her cheek. "Loki's already explained about your little game," she said, holding up a note covered in his brother's spiky hand.

Thor nodded.

"Your mother and I have a wager of our own. She's bet that you'll both last the three days, I've bet that you won't."

Thor pointed to his chest, eyebrows raised in question.

"No, not you personally. One of you."

Loki pointed at Thor with an overly sweet smile, and Thor kicked him under the table. Loki jumped in surprise, earning them both a look from the queen that suggested she was trying very hard to look stern.

The arrival of the chef offered her some reprieve.

"Hello, Anna. What are the options for this evening?" Frigga asked.

"I've made a seafood souffle and liver with onions, my lady."

"Oh, that sounds lovely. I'd like the souffle, and the princes will both have liver."

Anna nodded as Odin said he too wanted souffle, before looking curiously at the princes. Their eyes were wide with horror and they were both waving their hands frantically. "I think, perhaps-" she began.

"Don't mind them, they're playing a little game with each other. They _will_ have the liver."

Thor and Loki collapsed back in their chairs, staring at their mother in horror, and she could no longer contain her mirth. For all the differences between her two sons, they occasionally - like now, faced with the prospect of liver for dinner, and with no effective way to object without making a scene - looked nearly identical.  
Loki grabbed suddenly for the paper in her hand, but she snatched it away. "Oh, no. I don't think so," she said.

"You're trying to help me win?" Odin asked dryly.

Her eyes sparkled. "They won't crack this easily. But we may as well have some fun with this, too," she said.

He grunted.

He did, however, make extra comments about the deliciousness of dinner.

Thor and Loki sat glaring at each other as they chewed grimly on their slices of liver.

Day 2

The second day, Thor decided on a different tactic. When they were little, Loki had been so easy to startle; Thor passed many happy hours of his childhood jumping out at his brother from behind a pillow, or dropping a hairy spider on his head. And while Loki had long ago lost his fear of creepy-crawlies, he was, if anything, even more high-strung than in their youth.

He decided this was well worth skipping his breakfast, and he hid behind a pillar as the royal family filed out of their private dining room. Despite the round table and relative informality of their meals, the proper procession was still observed when they left the room. He watched as Odin passed, then Frigga - tensing his muscles as he saw his mother go by - and then jumped out triumphantly, landing with a soft strike of his suede slippers on the marble floor. Loki merely tilted his head to one side and rolled his eyes.

Thor’s attempt was as laughable as it was obvious. He had taken such delight in scaring his little brother when they were young, Loki would have been more startled to <not find his brother jumping out at him. He gave Thor the most pointedly bored look he could manage. He’d set himself a fairly high bar over the years, but from the crestfallen expression on Thor’s face, he’d succeeded reasonably well.

Thor again watched his brother walk away. He wasn’t sure quite what he’d expected, to be honest. Certainly not the startled shriek of long ago followed by billows of childish laughter as Loki’s startlement turned into amusement. He smiled to himself, thinking of the way those bright eyes had first widened, then crinkled. _You’re my best friend, Thor,_  he used to say, his small arms around Thor’s neck. _You’re mine, too,_  he used to answer. He couldn’t think how long it had been since they had shared those words.

His brother tried again not two hours later, as though Loki would let his guard down so soon after his earlier attempt. He marveled, not for the first time, how his brother could be so good at war and so useless at tactics. Mjolnir did come in handy, he mused. Little need for strategy when one is blessed with such a weapon. But it left him at a loss, now. Loki was reading in the library, curled in a worn chair, when a spider landed on his book.

It was a massive spider. Thor had spent over an hour in the gardens, searching for the largest one he could find, and this one was hairy with menacing markings on its back. Even though Loki had gotten over his fear of spiders, this seemed like the one to bring it back. But when he dropped it on the book, his brother merely flicked his fingers and the spider shimmered out of existence. He had been a fool to hope for anything else, of course. But his heart ached for the feel of little Loki’s bony fingers digging into his arms as he climbed nimbly to perch on Thor’s shoulders at the sight of _a thpider, Thor._

Thor made his last attempt of the day several hours later. He strongly suspected that Loki would not believe him capable of restraint, thus increasing his chances of actually surprising him when he came to his room for the evening.

The first hour he passed sprawled beneath Loki's bed, waiting to grab an ankle. It was dusty under there, though, and painfully dull. The second hour he spent sitting, leaning against the heavy chaise longue his brother favored. He could still grab an ankle from there.

But by the third hour, even that grew too dull. Loki's dressing chambers were in the room beyond, and he wandered in there. He would have time to hide behind a curtain before Loki came into view.

Thor would never have opened that drawer, if only it had been fully shut when he came in. But it was slightly open already. Barely more than a crack, but enough to see in. To see a bit of a picture that lay within. Thor couldn't help his curiosity after catching that glimpse, and he tugged on the stubborn handles until it slid open with a screech. He winced and froze, certain that that would be the exact moment Loki returned, but as the seconds ticked by he remained alone.

He wasn't so much taken aback by the pictures as he was by the fact that Loki had them. They were on flimsy, glossy paper, like they had been clipped from magazines from Midgard. Thor certainly hadn't seen anything quite like them in Asgard's massive libraries. They all showed two men, different men, always one with light hair and one with dark. They showed every imaginable position, from behind, facing, against a wall, over a table... some were more worn than others, as though the collection had been building over years. And beneath them, he found a- he dropped it quickly, stepping back. He hurriedly replaced the pictures and slammed the drawer shut.

He had never guessed. Was this why Loki had grown so distant? Perhaps he feared Thor would make a mockery if he found out. It would explain much. When they could talk again, he would bring it up gently. He would admit to his snooping and tell Loki it made Thor love him no less. He would do whatever it took to make Loki believe it.

When Loki decided he had dallied long enough, he returned to his rooms to find Thor jumping out from behind his chaise. He yawned wide, one languid hand making a feigned attempt at covering his mouth. It was startling, though, when Thor recovered so quickly from his disappointment and pulled him into his arms. Loki couldn't remember the last time his brother had held him like this. He fought at first, pulling and wiggling to get away, before finally allowing himself to relax into it. _Enjoy this now. It will be all you get_ , he told himself sternly.

The whole thing grew even more confusing when he glanced over Thor's shoulder to see that <that drawer was all the way shut, shoved past the sticky point where Loki usually left it. Thor must not have realized that Loki had taken only those pictures in which the men looked like the brothers. That Loki looked at them and dreamed. And the worst of it was that while Loki wanted what they showed, that was not even what Loki wanted most. It was simply the closest falsehood he could imagine.

*****

The third time Thor caught him staring, he decided he’d best make a game of it. He hadn't realized how difficult it would be, being around Thor without his sharp tongue to protect him. His wit was at once weapon and shield, guarding his heart behind a smirk and a barb. So he fixed his eyes at a point just to one side of Thor’s nose, and stared. This time, when Thor felt the weight of Loki’s eyes upon him, Loki did not look away. When Thor silently mouthed _What_? Loki merely smiled at him blandly.

The next time he looked up to stare at the same spot, Thor was watching and waiting. Yes, he was right to make a joke of this. His own heart had played the cruelest joke on him. He may as well share the favor.

Loki’s gaze burned into his skin, making it impossible to pay attention to his food. He barely even heard their mother’s words as it lengthened. The first few times he looked up, Loki had looked away abruptly. He stopped looking away, though, and Thor felt a pang of regret, confusing but unmistakable, when he realized that it was not his face, but a point _on_ his face, that had caught his brother’s attention.

And Loki, of course, only smiled at him when he tried to find out _what_ it was he stared at. Thor picked up his spoon, idly twisting it as he tried to catch his reflection. The back of the bowl made his face look distorted, but it enlarged enough that it seemed as though anything worth a stare ought to show up. When he found nothing, he looked back up to find his brother grinning triumphantly at him. His glare only made Loki’s smile broaden, his pale lips stretched in mockery.

 

Day 3

The last day. Thor looked at the clock the moment he woke, to find he had only seventeen hours left. He had no clue what else to try. Pain hadn't worked. Surprise hadn't worked. How many ways were there, really, to provoke someone into sound? He dressed carelessly and trudged through the halls to join his family in their small dining room. He was halfway between the door and his chair when the idea struck like a bolt of lightning. When he took his next step, he didn't lift his foot as far as was needed when walking on these old floors, and he let a worn slab of gray tile catch his toe.

Loki couldn't help the quirk of his lips as he watched his brother's dramatic fall. It was impressive, he had to admit. All the factors were there - the comically surprised face, the flailing arms, the grab at the tablecloth as he went down. It was something they used to practice as children, striving to outdo one another in how outrageous they could make their pratfalls.

Thor caught Loki's eye as he straightened and took his chair. It hadn't worked, but it had gotten him much closer than any of his previous attempts. If he couldn't get a cry, perhaps he could get a laugh.

It really was trying of Thor, to come up with this reasonably good idea. It would reveal his own trickery, if he weren't careful. It hadn't been forbidden, but that sort of thing never stopped Thor, with his ridiculous ideas about _right_ and _fair_.

Breakfast was spent with Frigga laughing at Thor's antics, dredging up her own memories of their childhoods, and Loki's own face vacillating between amusement and controlled boredom. Odin had grumbled that it was hardly suitable behavior for the heir, but Frigga had shushed him. It was the most fun Thor had had with his brother since... he sighed inwardly. Long enough ago to not know. And at the end of the meal, as they slid back their chairs, Loki hadn't laughed.

Thor followed Loki to the stables, smiling idly at the scowls cast in his direction. Just as Loki got a foot in the stirrup, Thor swooped in and clamped both hands on Loki's waist, fingertips skimming and swirling across his most ticklish areas. As with the fall, he got an honest reaction. Loki had to purse his lips as he curled in on himself, his shoulder shaking with laughter. Thor bent over, following him down. He could see the flare of Loki’s nostrils as his lungs heaved.

It was difficult to hide his deceit in the face of this onslaught. Thor knew very well where Loki was most sensitive to this type of attack. It was one, moreover, that Loki had no hope of retaliating; Thor had always been so much larger, Loki never got the chance to learn where he might tickle his elder brother.

Nor was Loki willing to make his escape too soon. This was the closest (other than last night’s embrace, which, frankly, had been more alarming than enjoyable) he’d been to his brother in decades – centuries, perhaps, and he was loathe to relinquish it. But there were limits in their game, ones Thor didn’t know. Could never know, not if Loki wanted to keep even the paltry connection they had now. He only had so long before his rebellious body began to melt into the touch.

He forced himself to straighten and grab the pommel with his left hand as he gave his mount a tap with his right, and he was gone.

Thor stood, watching his brother swing himself into the saddle with his horse already at a gallop. Just as Loki was about to disappear into the trees, when he'd decided that no, he wasn't going to look back, there was the briefest flash of pale face before it was hidden by the branches. He couldn't read the expression.  
Loki was careful to avoid Thor the rest of the day; it was too dangerous, letting himself get so close. Dinner, though, couldn't be helped.

“So, Loki, is your luggage preparation underway?” Frigga asked as they picked up their soup spoons.

Loki was well aware of Thor’s head whirling towards him, and he kept his eyes fixed on his mother as he nodded _yes_.

Thor’s eyes were wide with demand as he held his hands up, gesturing _what_?

“Oh, I’m so sorry if I’ve ruined your surprise, dear,” she told Loki before turning to Thor. “Loki is to be our ambassador to Niflheim. He was so instrumental in the development of the treaty, he was the obvious choice. He leaves in in a matter of days.”

Thor glared at his brother, who smiled back innocently, and he slammed a fist on the table. All his plans, all his hopes for the coming weeks and months to draw them back closer together, were lost. _A matter of days_. And here he had wasted three on a silly bet. He opened his mouth in protest...

And snapped it shut just in time. Because these three days had not been wasted. No. He had learned things, in this silence. It had made him realize how he longed to have his brother back as they once were. If not for the wager, he likely would have shrugged off the news of Loki's departure. Thor's drive to win the bet had somehow become the way to win his brother's heart. It meant everything.

But he didn't know what else to do.

*****

After dinner, they walked together towards their chambers. Thor’s shoulders felt heavy with defeat, and they slumped as Loki turned down his hall, casting a smirking glance back over his shoulder. Thor would have groaned, if only he could. He settled for a sigh. He sighed again as his brother gave him a knowing wink before turning away. Surely there was something else to try. He still had six hours.

He hadn't slept well. He was tired. That was what was to blame for this confusion. He was perfectly aware that it made no sense, but somehow losing _to_ Loki had become losing _Loki_. It wasn't the wager anymore, not really. Or not solely. Winning one had become winning both.

Thor paced his room, his eyes falling on the clock each time he approached it, as though glaring at it might make it slow down. But it counted interminably onwards, the even march of seconds counting towards his doom. He was out of ideas to provoke his brother into sound. Sparring, tickling, startling... all had failed. He couldn't think of anything else to try.

And then he did.

 _No_. He wouldn't do that. His brother? No. It was not to be thought.

But... neither was the idea of losing Loki. That was not to be thought, either. But they were brothers. Which meant they should not do such things.

Which also meant they should not be so far apart as they had grown.

And... none had ever remained quiet in his bed. Loki certainly wasn't opposed to the act itself; that was evident.

This was just a drunken wager, though. He was overreacting to the whole thing. Loki leaving had nothing to do with the bet. Surely he mustn't take it so seriously. A piece of sport, nothing more. He couldn't really...

It came as a revelation. Yes. He was. And yes. He _would_.

*****

Loki lay stretched out on his stomach in front of the fire, idly rereading an old text he'd read twice already, his eyes taking in nothing.

Every few pages, his eyes floated to the clock. He wondered if Thor would even realize there was something else to try. If he hadn't found Loki's pictures, Loki could have gone to his brother's room, pretending that he was at last trying to provoke Thor into losing, but that chance was ruined.

It was distressing, this wait. He had trusted that Thor would not be content simply with winning. No, he always had to see himself the victor, had to have the moment of triumph over another when not only he won, but they lost. And Loki had _so_ savored the thought of watching Thor fail. His feelings for his brother took nothing away from his delight at the thought; indeed, if Thor lost this bet, it would be one of the most enjoyable of Loki's countless petty revenges. Thor deserved it, all of it. He deserved every bit of it for being the golden son whom Loki could not help loving any more than did the rest of Asgard. Deserved it for his cruelty in making Loki love him in a way that he would never love Loki in return.

And then he heard the doorknob. He glanced back over his shoulder to find his brother there, silhouetted against the bright torches of the hall. Thor stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

Loki shifted to his side, resting on one elbow. It was only a few broad strides before Thor was kneeling next to him, the strangest look on his face. Determination warred with confusion, and with them there was more than a hint of longing. Loki took that for more than it was worth, well aware that he was lying to himself as much as he ever lied to others. Thor's hands were strong, irresistible even if Loki had wanted to resist, as he pulled Loki's lips to his own.

Thor... oh, he _could_ kiss, Loki had to admit it. His lips were surprisingly soft and gentle as they moved lightly, giving no more than teasing promises at first. Thor opened his mouth to grasp lightly at Loki's lower lip, running his tongue along it before gliding in.

Loki curled his fingers into Thor's hair and kissed him back. He smirked at the gasp of shock it drew from his brother. It was sharp enough that it almost had a sound, and Loki quickly retreated. He wanted to take everything he could get, tonight, and that would be much more if he didn't startle his brother into losing the wager too soon.

Thor had half expected Loki to end the game the moment their lips came together, either with speech or a fist. So when he instead kissed him back, it left him blindsided. His mind jumped against his will to those pictures he had found in Loki's drawer.

If that was the only way he could have Loki's love, he would take it. And if it meant winning their wager at the same time, well. They _were_ still brothers, and Thor did hate losing. He tugged Loki's shirt loose from where it was tucked in at his waist, and slid his hands up his brother's smooth stomach. He continued on more slowly until his thumbs caught on soft nipples, making Loki's breath catch. He rubbed at them gently, feeling them tighten beneath his attentions.

The strangest part of doing this, he was beginning to realize, was that only the start of it really felt strange. After that he was simply carried on by momentum, his body knowing not only how to act but how to respond. His body decided that it wanted the long, lean figure beneath him, for all the qualms his mind may have. And Loki's skin was _so_ soft, so lusciously soft beneath his own hammer-roughened hands. He wondered vaguely if they were too rough for such delicate, hidden skin, but he knew that Loki would not tell him.

He was not willing to ask, and even as he told himself it was from wanting to win their wager, he knew it was at least partly from not wanting this feeling to end.  
Loki closed his eyes and sighed as Thor's swirling hands stirred his arousal, sending hurricanes skittering across his skin. So much better than Loki's own attempts with unconvincing doubles that always looked and felt too much like Loki. The very roughness of his brother's fingertips, where they were toughened from the leather wrapping of Mjolnir's handle, felt electric. Each pass of his thumbs across Loki's nipples set his nerves more and more alive. And if he could have made a sound, when Thor lowered one hand to palm at his rigid length through his clinging breeches, he would have.

The heat of Thor's touch went through the cloth as though it didn't exist. He eased his hands out of Thor's hair to mirror his brother's motions. Thor's torso felt like it had been hewn from rock. His nipples were already hardened, the skin tight and puckered beneath Loki's touch. His large hand quivered against Loki's cock as he reached down to Thor's own. His breeches were cut more loosely than Loki's, letting him curl his hand halfway around Thor's cock and making his brother finally break their kiss with a gasp.

Thor squeezed his hand lightly before drawing away, and then his fingers were flying, tearing at buttons and pulling laces free and shoving desperately and the scraps of fabric that survived his assault. Loki undressed him almost as quickly, though more carefully, and then they were suddenly naked, staring at one another with heaving lungs.

Loki wanted more - wanted everything - so much, but he was unwilling to move first. He saw his brother nude often enough, in the baths usually, or occasionally at the tailors. But to see him like this, not nude but _naked_ , his eyes rich with lust and his body eager... this was to be savored and remembered. It would have to last him a lifetime.

Thor watched as the strangest look passed over his brother's face. Whatever it was, it made him ache. He stepped closer, wanted to cleanse it, to replace the strangeness with smiles or lips spread wide in pleasure or gasps, to replace this eerie silence with cries of pleasure. He was just enough taller than Loki to wrap his arms around his narrow hips and carry him to his bed. That, at least, earned him a smirk, and Loki waggled his fingers lazily at the drawer of his nightstand. Thor leaned over to slide it open, and found a large tub of ointment for sore muscles. It would do.

Based on what he had found in Loki's other drawer, Thor was confident enough of which position he would take, and he trailed his fingers across Loki's jutting, reddened cock, watching his brother's eyes darken at the touch, before he slicked his fingers.

It was all Loki could do, when Thor began to work him open, to not let his eyes fall shut. Each time Thor increased the intensity, going deeper or thicker, it was like lightning bolts shooting through him. Like every inch of him was lit up. His mind could so easily overload beneath this onslaught and to add vision to the mix was simply too much. But he was far too unwilling to give up this sight. If he could go without even blinking he would. _Save it, remember it,_  he warned himself. And so it was that his eyes were on his brother's face when Thor looked between his cock and his thick fingers buried within, and judged them enough.

Thor wasn't prepared for how it would feel to press forward into that clenching heat. It was almost too tight, and Loki writhed beneath him, only his hips still as he was stretched open. His face, usually so guarded and controlled, had become raw and open. Revealing. Showing things that he had grown accustomed to keeping hidden. Right now, it was pain, despite Thor's careful preparation. Even with how much his face had changed as he grew, Thor was reminded of the time Loki had hit his head when they were playing in the forest. His mouth had widened in the same O as it did now, though the man beneath him stayed silent. Thor stroked his hair and kissed his cheek, just as he had done then.

Loki glared up at Thor. He had been prepared for anything but tenderness. In retrospect, he should have added _you can't be nice to me_  to the rules for their bet. Because it wasn't enough, Thor being like this while Loki was hurt. Thor was like this with everyone who was hurt, outside of battle. It was agony, far worse than anything physical, to want this and to be _given_ this and to know it meant nothing.

When Thor moved again, the drag within had calmed from searing heat to a mildly burning <oddness. It was better - no argument there - but it wasn't good enough to distract him from his vicious thoughts. So he shifted beneath his brother, bucking his hips upwards, urging him on. It worked, and Thor moved faster, his harsher thrusts sparking pleasure.

Loki’s face was almost too painful to watch. It seemed that this joining, at last, had stripped him of deception, and a thousand thoughts flooded his eyes, a thousand words danced across his silent lips. And with each of them came a memory: times, long ago, when he and his brother had been happy together. The time they had disguised themselves to slip away from the castle and get ice cream in the town below, its taste twice as rich for being forbidden. The time Thor took Loki for his first horseback ride, urging their mount to greater and greater speeds as Loki’s joyous face looked back at him. The time Idunn had pursued them through her orchard until they managed to hide in the haymow, panting with exhaustion.

Loki’s writhing under him grew irresistible, matching the twisting tension that coiled deep inside him, until he was too close to hold back. But this was more than they had shared in ages, and Thor was unwilling to finish without his brother. He reached between them to grasp Loki’s cock in his strong hand, smiling at the way it made Loki’s eyes flare, before he began to stroke, coaxing his brother to join him in the heights. He was entirely unaware of the sound of the bell as it began to chime. He knew nothing in the world but Loki’s body responding, clenching and trembling as they drew close, together. Loki’s head arched back as he came with a silent gasp, Thor spilling into him with a shout. It was just after the final chime.

And that was the moment Loki felt his hope, which he had believed to be long-lost, to finally die. Even if he couldn’t be with Thor as fully as he wanted, he would have been content to know he had his brother’s heart. But for Thor, even now, in the midst of _this_ , to be holding his tongue until the third strike of the bell, still thinking only about the wager… that was the end.

They collapsed, sweaty and sated, onto Loki's bed. Thor curled on his side and pulled his brother close against him, unwilling to let go. It had been far beyond anything he could have imagined, and as uncomfortable as he still was with the thought of what, exactly, they had just done, he searched his heart and found no real regret. If this was the only way Loki was willing to love him, he would meet it with joy. As soon as he had collected himself enough to speak, he would beg Loki to stay. Beg him to be as they once were. Or more. Whatever Loki was willing to.

Loki closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy this for a brief moment before he steeled his heart and let reality destroy the dream. Thor watched with pleasure-bleared eyes as Loki made a small twist with his fingers and turned to him.

"Well, brother," Loki said. "It seems we both won."

Thor had been so enraptured with the thought that he had finally - in some small way, at least - regained his brother's heart. It was beyond cruel of Loki to crush the dream now, when it had only begun to bud. So cruel to allow Thor to _hope_ , when to Loki it was never anything more than a drunken game. Well. If that was what Loki wanted, that was what he would have. Thor's last gift before bidding him farewell. "You cheated," he said, filling his voice with indignation. "You cast a spell of silence upon yourself! _I_ alone won!"

"Oh, _no_ , Thor,” Loki purred. “I offered you the chance to set more rules and you refused. Something about 'ways for me to wiggle out of it.' There was only one forbidden thing, and it was not seidr. Still, I must say," he said, stretching luxuriously, "it did prove more enjoyable than I had expected. That last bit actually wasn't half bad." The look on Thor's face at his words was worth every bit of the fight he had waged within himself, struggling for control enough to make a mockery of all that had passed.

"Not half-" Thor began, but Loki cut him off with a lazily waving hand.

"Fine. It was enjoyable enough. But go now, would you? You left me rather in need of a bath."

It had been such a fragile thing, that hope that they might once again be as they used to be. Or more. So fragile, so easily broken. And it had been a false hope, at that, nothing more than a dream built upon quicksand. Yet with it gone, Thor ached to go back into it, finding that he craved the lie. Just to live in it, once more...  
"Three more days," he said. "No seidr, this time."

Loki looked at his brother. Oh, if only he could keep lying to himself, make himself believe that Thor wanted something more than merely winning a bet... but no. There was no hope of that. Thor might claim to love him - _did_ love him, he supposed, at least a bit - but not enough. Not as Loki ached to be loved. So it was with a deep, hollow ache that he answered.

"There's no point, Thor. It would gain us nothing."

He watched Thor's jaw tighten as he stood to dress. "Very well, then," he said stiffly. Furious, no doubt, that he wasn't getting his way. Loki stayed in bed and watched Thor prepare to go.

At the last second before Thor opened the door, he turned back to face the bed, his mouth opening in question. He wanted to beg, _Please don’t go to Niflheim,_  but Loki was right. If Loki didn’t love him, there was no point in asking. It would gain them nothing. So he left without a word.

When Loki was alone he went not to his bath but to his window. He stood there naked, his face pressed against the cool glass. When the storm began, the streaks of rain down the pane matched those from his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotten a lot of comments asking for a sequel- thanks for the lovely compliments! Since this was written as a gift for izazov, who likes the current ending, any follow-up that I write won't actually be attached to this story.


End file.
